The Daily (I)
December 11. Morning, 6am. Winter dark. The light comes quickly. Cats watch the sunrise, I watch them watching. Tea. Ritual. Home studio is up and running. I plan my travel escape post pandemic. Mentally trekking the distance, locations of summer studios I plan to inhabit. In a constant space of sending out best thoughts for life to those consumed by this pandemic. I hear my heart beating as I write. The snow begins to fall, it is soft, small flakes. The second bit of water we have had since raging fires forced our evacuation months ago.
Living on a mountain 20 years, off grid. It is not a matter of “if” – it is a matter of “when”. Life here is understanding and living that impermanence in all its forms.
Incubation and rethinking everything – not about the fiber of my life – but why things are as they are. How do we offer new thinking – new space – psychological space? Examining history. Not the one with which we are familiar, but the histories that are unspoken by many. The stories that have not been documented through history, but are known through lived experience. The truth in which we live, that is not a lie, and is also not pleasant. No frosting. How did we really come to all of this? And more importantly, why continue to do things the same way as they have “always been” as if that is “how it is supposed to be”?
Expand – rethink – not with one toe in the water – but completely. With the body and embodied. Not accepting the “old way” whatever that is, because everything has changed. Everyone has changed. The train is no longer leaving the station, it has left. You are running behind it. Get the fuck on.
The snow continues and is a bit heavier, now, as I look up. The studio is cool.
Silence is deep here. It always has been – we are reacquainted. It offers, daily, a profound lesson and practice in listening. Silence is the most important partner.
My beloved Uncle Dom told of his mother and he arriving from Italy to the US in the early 1900’s. She talked about the first phone lines that were being installed in their home town in Italy. The lines interfered in the neighbor’s communication with the spirits. The spirits could not get to them through the lines… this was a problem. When I first heard that I understood it. There was an introduction of static. A lack of static describes, exactly, what it is to be on this mountain.
With the knowledge of spirit and static, the question arises if one is willing to live with the steady stream of information that comes when there is no static. The constant whirring of manmade energy that we live with stops entirely. Not to encounter mental static is similar to the shift in the whirring rhythm that has occurred during this pandemic.
There is a clarity now, a truth. This is agitating people further. Personal and social realities are ringing in our ears. They are inside of us; not outside. There is a new whirring, a rhythm that has changed, replaced with new sound. How do we listen and hear, clearly, now? Who is willing to be truly open to the spirit of what is happening? A unique silence is now our partner. It allows us to hear everything that we need to; giving us the space to make the changes that are necessary to exist wisely and to open space for future generations.